


Tell Me It’s You I Need

by fuckingallagherss



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon Gay Relationship, Gallavich, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, Prison, Protective Mickey Milkovich, prison endgame, soft gallavich
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-02 23:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16315079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckingallagherss/pseuds/fuckingallagherss
Summary: Ian awaits his dreaded prison sentence and recounts some of his past. Past memories. Past lover. Past life. He’s not sure how much he’s able to move on from who he was.Mickey anticipates the next few days because finally, he gets to see his Ian. Finally, he can take a breath of fresh air again. If that means going back to prison, so be it.





	1. Tell Me... I Fucking Need You

**Author's Note:**

> "Some days, I'm tired of trying honey,  
> But you're like, a thousand miles from me.  
> You've got the antidote for me.
> 
> I'm wrapped and worn come and find me,  
> Lean on me, now I'm saying always  
> You've got the antidote for me
> 
> Oh honey, make me healthy”
> 
>  
> 
> _Honey, Make Me Healthy - Flannel Graph_

**October 10th, 2018**

 Mickey winced, just slightly, as the needle shot small, subtle pains throughout his forearm. He wasn’t no bitch but shit, this fucking hurt. His week long cellmate wiped some of the excess tattoo ink away and kept working and Mickey eventually fell into the melancholic routine of physical pain. 

  
        In his hand, he  held a really mediocre drawing of a grim reaper and the words “lado sur siempre.” Southside. Always. Through and through. 

  
        He only had three or four days left in this Texas prison  before he was shipped off to Chicago and he wanted something to be different about him. Something that didn’t make his entire being scream “I’ve thought about you every day since you abandoned me.” Something that could say “I’m a different person since the last time you saw me, Gallagher” even though that was the farthest thing from the truth. He wasn’t. He was the same big ol’ mo, Mickey Milkovich, who’s heart ached for a certain red- headed, soft-hearted, fuck-face of a human. 

  
        Three (or four) days until he could breathe again. Until he could exhale everything he’s been holding in for so damn long. So long he lost count a while ago. Three (or four) days until he could feel real again; whole – like an actual person with feelings and desires. Three (or four) days until he could rest again.

  
        He just had to get through three or four more days. Then he would be okay. 

  
        He winced again, the needle pricking somewhere closer to his wrist this time. Fuck.   
          

####   October 13th, 2018 

       Ian lay awake in his bed at the Gallagher house for one last time. Well, at least for a while. He assumed once he’s out of prison for arson in two years he wouldn’t have anywhere to stay and would end up back in this shit hole once again. His last night in his own bed and he couldn’t even sleep well. He guessed he’d have to get used to it anyway.

       His mind wandered for a while until it stopped on something he’s tried repressing too many times. A specific black-haired boy who smelled like cigarettes and the best pheromones Ian had ever had the chance to smell.

      At first, Ian simply thought of Mickey’s soft touch, his gentle gaze – his words that always came out perfectly; something Ian could never master. It was sweet, calming… safe until it wasn’t. Until words like “I’m sorry,” “I love you,” and “ Don’t do this” came creeping into his brain, taking over any pleasant feeling he might have been holding on to before. His heart twinged with guilt, shame and regret. But mostly sadness and loss. He missed Mickey more than anything he had ever missed in his whole life; even his own mother.

      Before tears could well up and spill onto his freshly washed pillow case, he closed his eyes and pushed the thoughts out of his mind. There was no point in dwelling on something he could never have again. No point in dwelling on happiness. He would never have it, he thought. At least not in this life time.

  

#### October 20th, 2018

      Mickey opens his eyes, greeted with the dorkiest smile in the whole Southside of Chicago. He swore no one could come close to Ian’s stupid morning grins. Unable to hold it back, Mickey’s lips slowly slide into a grin too, some teeth even showing. His heart pounds and aches at the same time. Gallagher.

      Mickey brings his hand up to Ian’s cheek – Ian’s hand already gently rubbing Mickey’s neck – and goes in for a kiss. Before their mouths touch, he scrunches his nose.

      “Ian DragonBreath Gallagher.” He mumbles, moving his face away from Ian’s slightly, but not enough for Ian to let go.

      Ian rolls his eyes and smirks even more before kissing Mickey anyway. They almost fall into kissing forever until Mickey scrunches his nose again.

      “No but really, the fuck you eat last night?”

      “Same thing as you, dickhead. Remember, we’re in prison together? We have the same meals.”

      Now they’re awake, and speaking at a normal level, yet neither can untangle themselves from the safe and comforting embrace they lay in. In fact, they cuddle closer, Ian’s leg moving on-top of Mickey’s thigh. Mickey’s legs find the perfect spot to hide under Ian’s and they lay together for a while, nearly falling back asleep.

      And Ian does. He dozes off a lot when they lay together. Especially at night after he takes his medicine and this gives Mickey time to admire something he thought he had lost forever. Time to pick out his favorite freckle, to search for any reason to love Ian’s black hair while he mourned the ginger. To think of every reason he loves Ian Gallagher

 

**October 12th, 2018**

      Mickey eyes his new tattoo and tries desperately not to itch the son of a bitch. He really wanted this one to come out nice after the embarrassing, shit show of a tattoo he got in prison last time. He urgently pushes the memory out of his head like he does every time in the shower. Fuck, he had to get that covered up once he got out.

      He sighed and pushed himself off the thin mattress the prison provided for him and started doing his daily routine. Take a piss. Take a shit. Run hands through hair. Do 50 push ups. Do 10 more because he wanted to look good for Ian. 20 sit ups. 100 squats.

      His roommate huffs and puffs and jumps off the top bunk.

      “Jesus, Mickey, every fucking goddamn day. Like clockwork.”

      “Gotta stay in shape. Kinda let myself go in Mexico. Swear I was headed straight into beer-belly zone – that’s when I stopped drinking those coronas and stuck to tequila instead.”

      His roommate, José, rolled his eyes and started doing some push-ups on his own.

      “My girl’s coming to visit tomorrow, so I’ll join you for today.”

      It was silent for a while, albeit stressed out huffs from two guys who were clearly out of shape, until José stopped his jumping jacks for a moment and stood with his hands on his hips, breathing fast and looking down at Mickey, who was still going in on some push-ups.

      “Who you doin’ all this for anyway? This girl must be a looker.”

      Mickey stopped for a moment and shortly after his arms collapsed under his weight, clearly tired from all his working out. He laid there for a few moments, panting, before getting to his knees and wiping some sweat off his head. He glanced up at José, who was still looking at Mickey expectantly, and quickly looked away. He ignored him and moved back to his bunk, throwing himself on his back, one hand behind his head.

      “Doin’ it for me.” Mickey said, finally.

      José laughed and started towards his top bunk. “Bullshit.” He teased.

      “A guy can’t wanna look better for himself? Jesus. Not everybody wants a horse and carriage love story.” Mickey said, trying to shrug off the situation and sound as normal as possible.

      But his heart began to beat faster and his forehead began to sweat a little more, and it wasn’t from his prior work out. Of course it was for Ian but even speaking it out loud made him nervous. He didn’t want to jinx it. Him and Ian had already been jinxed too many times in the past and he didn’t want to fuck this one up; not when he was so close to getting what he mourned the last two years back. He couldn’t fuck this up. And at the same time, he wanted so badly to speak his name, say it out loud. Maybe then it would feel real.

      “Nah, there’s a girl. A new, badass tattoo, work-outs every morning, fuck you’re even brushing twice a day. And all right before you’re getting shipped back to your home? Just fuckin’ say it.” José said, antagonizing him.

      “Ian. His names fuckin’ Ian alright? Je-sus.” Mickey spat.

      A weight lifted off his chest. Ian. Ian Gallagher. He could only hope he hadn’t jinxed anything just yet. He noticed José was silent.

      “And yeah I’m fuckin’ gay, if you got a problem with it come down here and say it to my fuckin’ face, bitch.” Mickey snapped. He couldn’t seem like no bitch, especially now that he outed himself.

      “Damn, Mickey, calm down. Ain’t nobody got no problems,” José cautioned, while moving down from the top bunk to the floor until he was in front of Mickey, “Now, lets work on those squats. You’re not doing them right so your legs are gonna weaken and you’re ass ain’t gonna get any tighter. Let me show you.”

####                     October 14th, 2018

      Ian opens his eyes, slowly, letting the morning light flood his vision. He rubs his eyes with his fists and yawns. He feels hungry and like he has to piss and shower, but then he remembers. And slowly, his body sinks back into his bed, the sheets beginning to feel like they’re suffocating him, except, he almost enjoys it.

      Right now, he’d rather do anything besides get up. He’d rather die than go to prison. And now, his nerves settle in and he starts thinking about leaving again. He wishes he had fled that day before his trial. He wants so badly to be anyone else right now. His body begins to ache with anxiety and soon it becomes physical and shakes creep up through his muscles and onto his skin, rattling every appendage he has. His breath catches in his lungs and he begins to feel like he’ll never breathe normally again. His vision blurs, coming in and out of focus and he doesn’t realize Lip standing over him until he begins snapping in his face

      “Ian! Helllo? Ian? Are you okay, dude?” Lip practically shouts in front of him.

      He wants so badly to utter “I’m fine” because he doesn’t want to be seen like this but he can only scream inside his head. He looks at Lip frantically as he gasps for air.

      Lip realizes it’s serious and sits down beside Ian, trying to calm him.

      “Hey, hey, it’s okay Ian, I’m right here, okay? Look,” he grabs Ian’s hand and grips it tight, “I’m right here Ian. You’re okay. Everything’s going to be fine. Now just breathe with me.”

He begins to count one, two and three over and over again until Ian stops shaking, never letting his hand out of his grip. Slowly, Ian’s breath settles and he closes his eyes until the anxiety subsides just enough for him to think.

      “I’m sorry, Lip” He sniffled, small beads of tears dripping downwards onto the pillow.

      Lip shakes his head and gives Ian a hard look.

      “Don’t be sorry. Prison is hard, even for a Gallagher. You’re gonna be okay. I promise. You’ll be out in… what, 10 months with overcrowding, right?” Lip says, trying to lighten Ian up even if he can’t do it for himself.

      Ian gives Lip a small smile, a 15 year old version of him flashing before Lip’s eyes, before it disappears quickly.

      “I hope. I’m scared, Lip. I…I don’t want to go….” He trailed off, his eyes averting his brothers sight because he knew more tears were coming.

      “Yeah, I know. I know. It’s okay. I know you’re gonna be okay. You’ll find something in there, I know you will. You always find something.” Lip was smiling down at his younger brother now.

      Ian thought for a moment. And suddenly, words were tumbling out of his mouth before he knew it.

      “Do you think I should have went? That time, with Mickey. Do you think… I would have been… I don’t know, better?” Mostly, he was wondering this out loud, but if there was anyone he could trust all this with, it was Lip.

      For a moment, Lip considered the question and looked up towards the ceiling. He dug into his pockets and lit a cigarette as he continued thinking about Ian’s questions. Even though it was silent, Ian knew his brother wasn’t ignoring him or thinking up some half-assed answered. But still, his heart knotted up because all he kept replaying in his head was Lip telling him he ruined his life forever and should have crossed that damn border a year and a half ago. That he fucked up. That he should be ashamed of himself for treating Mickey like that. Over and over again, it played in his mind as Lip thought.

      “No. Yeah, maybe you wouldn’t have ended up here, going to prison. But, better? I don’t know, man. I don’t have all the answers. But I know people don’t make you ‘better’ no matter how good they are.” Lip speculated.

      Ian’s heart twinged but for some reason he smiled. He guessed it was because someday, he would have to feel better about himself after what happened with Mickey. Someday, he was going to have to forgive himself for everything and stop regretting what could have been. Someday, he would have to let go of loving Mickey Milkovich. And even though that seemed nearly impossible for him to do today, he had to start somewhere.

      “Thanks, Lip.”

                     

#### October 20th, 2018

      “I still can’t believe we’re really in here tog-“ Ian begins, but is quickly cut off by Mickey.

      “Oh my god, I’m not telling you the story again. I told you everything there is to it. I sold the cartel out, we get it. Can we move on now?” Mickey pleaded.

      It was practically all Ian could talk about all week long – besides about how happy he was, he could talk about that for hours. Mickey knew.

      Ian smiled, putting his hands up and bulging his eyes apologetically.

 “Sheesh, sor-ry. I won’t ask again. I just love the part where you get big and bad with the FBI agent. It’s hot. It turns me on.” He winked.

     Mickey rolled his eyes and starting eating his pudding. They’re in the cafeteria sitting alone at one of the tables as every other new inmate gets bullied into giving up their only serving of jell-o that week. Nobody dared fuck with them after their first day there. Mickey made that loud and clear as Ian stood behind him, backing him up. His height made him a little terrifying behind Mickey’s small frame despite how soft and gushy he really was.

   They’d probably have a problem here and there but nothing they couldn’t handle, especially since they were together now. Ian didn’t tell Mickey this but he was beyond relieved that Mickey was with him. Mickey knew of course, but didn’t say anything. It was an unspoken thing between them, but there wasn’t any embarrassment. Ian felt safe, if anything and Mickey was happy.

      It got quiet between them as they ate their food. It was nice. Not the food, but the silent glances and the stealing of each others pudding with sporks and the quiet smirks that said a thousand things all at once. Mickey appreciated moments like these the most, where he could just live in the present and see Ian for everything that he is. See him at his most vulnerable.

   He knew prison was still hard for Ian even if he was there. At night, when Ian thought he was asleep, he could feel the small, but very apparent, rise in his body, where his arms were wrapped tightly around. It was subtle, but it was there. And then, quickly, it would drop a few millimeters and pause, just to rise back up again. He could feel the tremble and the ache inside of Ian. Sometimes he could even feel a tear drip onto his arm, where Ian laid his head. He didn’t say anything, he just pretended to shuffle sleepily around so he could hold Ian tighter. Some nights, Ian could tell Mickey was actually awake but others he couldn’t. He didn’t care either way. He knew Mickey loved him regardless.

   “I’m sorry, Mick.” He whispered, looking down at his food.

Mickey looked up at him while still moving his fork through his corn and peas.

 “…for?” he asked.

   Ian looked up sheepishly, his cheeks turning rosy red and Mickey’s face softened and he bit his lip, realizing what Ian was saying.

 “You don’t have to apologize, Gallagher. I shouldn’t have….put you in that position. Like you said, you had your life together…” Mickey trailed off, becoming increasingly more interested in his food.

   “No, no, I do have to apologize. I’m sorry, okay? I’ve fucked things up for us over and over again and now… now I-“ he dropped his fork and his arms flew into the air, gesturing around him, “I landed the both of us in prison. Sounds like Ian Gallagher to me.” He sighed, shaking his head and standing up.

  He began to head towards the trash can and Mickey quickly stood up and began walking behind him.

  “Ian, wait.” He urged but Ian only kept walking until they were in their cell.

   He slumped onto the bed and began to cuddle into the blanket by himself, clearly upset. Mickey wasn’t angry with him. In fact, his heart ached for him. He wanted Ian to feel better more than anything. He laid down beside him, not unraveling the covers but just…existing in case Ian wanted to talk. He began playing with his black hair and noticed he could already see ginger roots growing back in. He smiled.

 “You know, the first time we banged, I remember thinking that I had never felt more me in my entire life?” Mickey said, in a soft and calm voice, as he continued to stroke his hair.

   “It was weird for me, because at the same time I was trying really hard to pretend it didn’t happen. But somehow my mind kept… bringing me back to that moment of…of…freedom I guess.”

   Ian suddenly turned around and faced Mickey, their noses almost touching. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t mad either.

 “You can’t soft-talk me into not feeling bad about this.” He choked

  Mickey shook his head, almost laughing, and continue to stroke Ian’s hair, slowly moving his hand over to his face and rubbing his soft, smooth skin. He kissed him deeply, only letting go when Ian wanted to, and took in the boy before him as if it were his last look at him before he could no longer see.

   “I’m not – I’m just saying… fucking Gallagher. You make me happy, is all. I don’t care what happened before. We’re here now and I don’t want you whining and moping like some bitch when we could be fuckin’ happy we’re not in here alone.” He concluded.

 Ian sighed, a smirk appearing on his face before he kissed Mickey back.

  “Then…I’m sorry and I love you.” Ian chirped, a full smile forming on his freckled face.

   “And we move on?”

  Ian nodded.

   “Then, I love you too.”


	2. Tell Me It's You I Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're the only warmth that my body knows  
> Everything's bitter in my mouth  
> You're the only sweetness that came around,
> 
> Everything I used to like I don't want no more,  
> You're the only thing I still adore"
> 
>  
> 
> _(Favorite Song - Køra)_

#### October 13th, 2018

     Mickey’s anxiety was getting worse and worse as the minutes passed. He was already in Chicago prison and only had one more day until he could breathe again. Until Ian was here. 

     It sounded horrible in his head, how badly he yearned for Ian to just be here already because really, he wanted nothing more than for Ian to be as far from prison as possible. 

     He didn’t deserve it. Mickey could accept being in prison himself – he deserved it more than Ian. At least that’s what Mickey thought. But Ian? Ian was far too passionate, loving and soft for prison. Even if he put up a Tough Southside façade, Mickey knew Ian was nothing but a plush toy deep down.

     He was sat in his temporary cell by himself, pacing back and forth, thinking of what he could possibly say when Ian arrived. Would Ian be happy to see him? Or miserable? Depressed? Manic? Maybe the fame got to his head and he didn’t even like Mickey anymore? 

     Mickey’s mind raced with all the potential scenarios and what the best responses were in each until he wore himself out. If he didn’t stop soon, he’d be a big pile of tears when he saw Ian. And he knew he had to keep it together. If not for himself, for Ian. 

     He just really didn’t want to arrive at Ian’s cell and get a look of disdain. Or annoyance. Or the million other negative looks that were crawling through his mind. Ian rejecting him was probably his biggest, darkest and deepest fear…at least right now. 

     He paced back in forth between his 3 feet of space and thought and rethought every step he had to follow for things to go well. People generally didn’t think this of Mickey, but he planned his next moves meticulously, in every part of his life and he always has. He’s a survivalist, and he’s been a survivalist for as long as he could remember. It was always on him to protect his siblings from his father, find them food and money after his father blew it at some trashy bar, do everything that needed to be done so his family could stay afloat. 

     And if that family changed, the rules were still the same. Keep Ian safe, in the house in no danger until he was better. Make sure he was there every night Ian was working, just in case anything bad might happen. Just on the slightest chance that Ian might be approached by the wrong people, taken by the wrong people and hurt by the wrong people. He needed to be there.

     So, yeah – he planned. Every step. He already got through four out of five of them – he could get through one more. All he had to do was demand the transfer of bunks tonight after dinner, explain the deal he made with the feds, and make sure he was transferred at 9:30AM – a half hour after first intake, where he knew Ian would be due to the article he saw online.

     He paused, walked over to the cell bars and looked to each side for his cellmate – still on visit. He had about 25 more minutes until visit was done and dinner began. 

     He slowly walked over to his bed where he kept his contraband cellphone – inside his mattress, where he slit a hole in a concealed part of the bed. He’d only be in this room one more day so he could ditch the phone after that. He just needed to check up on…Ian. Make sure his facts were right.

     He slid onto his bed, faced the wall and opened the old smartphone. It was already on the articles he had read about Ian, starting months back when he had just began the Gay Jesus shit. 

     He opened the most recent one regarding his trial. “Gay Jesus, LGBT+ activist, Pleads Not Guilty on Grounds of Insanity!” 

     He scrolled down and saw the picture of Ian that was already imbedded in his brain – black haired ginger, in a dark blue, almost black suit. Skin, pale but familiar. His lips were a deep pink-red and he looked almost vampiric. Mickey smiled, his thumb grazing the picture as he zooms in. Ian. Fire crotch. Mumbles. Sleepy-head. Tough guy. Army. Gallagher. 

     Hastily, he scrolled past after realizing how dazed he could get just looking at him. He didn’t want his mind to wander. Not now, he needed to focus. Focus Mickey.

     He landed on the first passage, describing what happened during the trial. He scanned through the article looking for any numbers or dates. It described all kinds of things beyond just the trial, like some past quotes from Ian and the van blowing up, the church break-ins. It made Mickey emotional even thinking about Ian doing all these things and having a following egging him on.

     They didn’t know Ian like Mickey did. They didn’t know Ian’s mind was working a thousand miles per minute and couldn’t concentrate on what right and wrong actually meant. He couldn’t slow it down to rethink the decisions. To see every side. They didn’t know Ian’s passion for things that evoked heat and rage inside him. They could never know it like Mickey did. And he wished so badly he was there with Ian instead of in Mexico….

     And there he goes again; getting caught up in what could have been. He did that too often nowadays. 

     There! _Ian Gallagher will start his sentence on October 14th, 2018._ The date was right. He just had to make sure it was right or it wouldn’t work out. He lingered on Ian’s name for a moment before scrolling back up to the picture of Ian. 

     After staring at every part of it for a minute or two, he pressed down and saved the picture to his phone so he could make it his lock-screen.

     He took one last glance and clicked the phone off, slipping it back into his mattress. His heart twisted and it felt like fire was enveloping all parts of his chest. Just one more night.

#### October 14th, 2018 - 8:30AM

     Ian’s heart thumped faster and faster by the second. Each minute it doubled in speed and he swore if it didn’t slow down, he wouldn’t make it to prison alive. His chest was becoming warmer and warmer and he didn’t think it was from the streamy shower. A numbness began to spread through his body, a subtle numbness that trapped him inside of himself for the time being. He needed this psychological protection before he had to leave his family behind.

     He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. The mirror was filled with fog but he looked at his blurry reflection anyway. White blotches of fog mixed with one big black blotch at the top - near his head. Regret filled his being and he sighed as he wiped the mirror clean, revealing his everclear reflection that somehow, somewhere he became disgusted by. He didn’t even feel like he was looking at himself anymore. Instead it was someone he didn’t know, and would never know. Someone he couldn’t identify. A scary, troubled version of some Ian Gallagher in an alternate universe. It couldn’t be him.

     He averted his eyes from his mirror-self and began brushing his teeth, the ever growing anxiety looming inside him somewhere, itching for triggers. Boom, boom, boom. Someone pounding on the door. 

     “Ian, hurry up. Fiona should be here any minute.” Lip yelled through the door. 

     Ian almost answered but heard Lip’s feet pounding down the steps already. He sighed, pulled on his clothes, dried his hair and took one last glance of pre-prison Ian. He hoped he didn’t look too different in two years. 

     Downstairs, his family - plus Kev and V - waited for him. Except for Fiona, who must have been running late. Secretly, he was glad she was running late. Despite hating this house his entire life, he felt an odd attachment to it and didn’t know if he could make it outside with feeling that loss he dreaded.

     He smiled nervously when he realized everyone’s eyes were on him. He shrugged his shoulders as if it to say “here I am” and put his hands in his pockets. 

     “You nervous?” Liam questioned. 

     “Kinda….yeah.” Ian mumbled, looking down for anything else to focus on. 

     Lip and his other siblings eyed him for a few moments before looking elsewhere, not wanting to address the melancholy they all shared in that moment. 

     “Where the fuck is Fiona?” Lip spat, looking down at his watch. 

     Lip was getting agitated now, which made Ian even more nervous. He didn’t want this to be a big thing. It was fine if no one wanted to come, but they all seemed pretty eager to be there. His heart ached for what had to be the billionth time over the millionth reason. This time it ached long and painfully as his brain recycled all his past thoughts - about all the family moments he was going to miss, his memories with them, the simpler times… Mickey…

     Kev snapped Ian out of a daze and suggested he’d take them instead, since it was 8:45AM and they needed to be there in fifteen. Fiona was a no show. His chest almost flamed up in a hot spiraling set of emotions but he quickly repressed it all and smiled at everyone while he opened the front door. Here he goes. 

#### October 22nd, 2018

     Mickey awoke to the agonizingly loud sound of Ian’s snoring. His eyes creeped open and Ian appeared before him. He laid there, gazing at him pathetically, until Ian shuffled in his sleep and cuddled his head closer, burying it under Mickey’s neck. 

     They laid there together, calmly, until a sharp opening of the cell door rattled them both. Light from outside the door poured in and left Mickey squinting out trying to figure out what was going on. Soon, the light was taken away as the door slammed shut and a dark, tall figure stood looming over them. Mickey realized it was the prison guard. 

     “The fuck is this? We’re fuckin’ sleeping douchebag.” Mickey spat. 

     He was sitting up a bit, Ian now awake, still kind of coddled on Mickey but alert. 

      “Get the fuck up, faggot.” The guard hissed. 

     He didn’t wait for anyone to move but started toward them. That’s when Mickey jumped up, leaving Ian behind on the bed, peering from behind. Ian tugged at Mickey’s jumpsuit, begging him through his tugs to sit back down, but Mickey wouldn’t. No way was anyone ruining this for them. 

      “The fuck you just call me?” Mickey growled, now in the guards face.

     The guard was a big, beefy man, at least half a foot taller than Mickey, but Mickey wouldn’t stand down. Soon, Ian stood up and moved in front of Mickey. 

     “He means to say, what do you want with us?” Ian said, trying to defuse the situation.

      “You - with me. We’re going somewhere nice.” The guard grinned, taking Ian by the hands and cuffing him.

      “Over my dead fuckin’ body he is!” Mickey exclaimed, jumping between them.

     But it was too late. The cuffs were already on and the guard had no intention of taking them off. The guard laughed menacingly and took out his baton. 

     “Mick, it’s okay. I’ll be fine, wherever he’s taking me. Just calm down. Right, officer?” Ian pleaded.

     “That’s right, pretty boy. Now back the fuck up before I take the both of you.” The guard threatened, pointing the baton at Mickey as he backed up towards the door, holding Ian with his free hand.

     Mickey didn’t back off immediately. He was not okay with this….at all. He looked Ian in the eyes, his face softening. He arched his eyebrows at Ian and Ian nodded, reassuring him. Slowly, Mickey backed up and put his hands up, sitting back down on the bed.

     “Good boy,” the guard laughed, opening the door up after he put the baton back on his belt, “good boy.” 

      Mickey didn’t take his eyes off Ian as they backed out, even when the door was shut.

     “You better bring him back to this cell or I’ll kill you my damn self!” Mickey yelled once they started walking away. 

     Fuck… fuck. This was bad. His throat began to close up and he knew he wouldn’t be able to breathe until Ian returned. He stood up and began pacing, thinking of a plan. He needed Ian back, now. 


	3. I Needed You Then and I Need You Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I can love you desperately  
> Though your love ain't guaranteed  
> Oh, I wish you knew the deal  
> Gotta learn from far away  
> And I simply needed space  
> Space for me to be  
> And I think you need it too  
> Though I know you call me selfish for assuming  
> I did this for you too  
> You still got me around your finger  
> Even though I'm far away"  
>  _Someone New - Banks_

**October 14th, 2018 - 9:15AM**

      Mickey paced in his cell, waiting for a guard to come take him to his new room. The room with Ian. Jesus Christ, his chest began to inflate with anxiety. They should be here any second now since intake only took 20 or 25 minutes. 

      It had to be at exactly the right time or it would just be ruined. He needed Ian to be in his cell before he could even work up the courage to confront him. He’d rather it be a surprise than an awkward glance across the way when they walked passed each other. 

      He started calming himself down by counting to ten in his head, over and over again, and taking notice of his breathing. He learned it in prison therapy and well, it actually worked, so he used it from time to time. 

       In between his breathing exercises, a guard tapped on his door-window and Mickey’s eyes snapped open. It was time. The guard opened the door and stood there for a few seconds, looking Mickey up and down.

       “Well? You just gonna stare at me all fuckin’ day long or are we gonna get this show on the road?” Mickey barked, raising his eyebrows.

      The guard rolled his eyes and twirled a finger in a circle, indicating Mickey turn around to be cuffed. Mickey rolled his eyes, turned and waited to be cuffed.

       One, two, three, four, five…. he continued counting over and over again, slowly calming his pounding heart and sweaty palms down. While walking out, he practiced his body movements. He wanted to look cool, collected and confident. Even if he wasn’t embarrassed in front of Ian, he didn’t want him thinking he’d been this sad puppy for the last year and a half without him. He didn’t want to look that pathetic. 

**October 14th, 2018 - 9:20AM**

Ian’s entire body was ignited in flames but he kept a straight face as he walked through the many twists and turns of hallways, the prison guard right behind him. His mind zig-zagged all over the place, jumping from trigger to trigger so quickly. It wasn’t mania this time - it was anxiety. 

He tried not to drag his feet but it was nearly impossible with the strain that walking in this anxious state put on his body. His legs were like jello. Actually, they were probably worse than jello. A cold cup of melting ice, and he was almost down to just water. 

They entered the area which he could tell was his home now. Prison cell after prison cell - two dudes in each. His heart thumped, thumped, thumped, thumped….faster and faster until he swore his chest must be visibly moving now. His face didn’t let it show though - or at least, he hoped it didn’t. These dudes looked pretty terrifying even though Ian wasn’t terrified by much.

As they began to walk through, the inmates started screaming and rattling the cell doors, chanting horrific things directed towards Ian. He wanted to cry. Fuck, he wanted to cry so badly. It practically took all his strength not to break down right there. If he had, he would be the prison bitch for the next two years and he couldn't have that. He blinked the tears away and pulled a hard face while walking to his cell. 

“Well, here we are.” The guard announced and started unlocking a cell door.

There wasn’t anyone in it and Ian sighed with relief. Even if it were for just a minute or two, he would be alone. 

He walked into the 3 by 3 area and jumped at the cell door closing shut behind him. His nerves were shot, completely. He could feel hot tears welling up in his eyes but he decided to ignore them and place his clothes on the top bunk. Harder to get stabbed or shivved on the top bunk he figured. 

He sighed, feeling his anxiety letting itself loose all around him but he didn’t care. He yearned for something familiar. Anything that could calm him down. His family.

But once he started thinking about them, it was over for him. He knew daydreaming about being with the people he loved would just make him even sadder. He really didn’t need to be depressed in here. It wouldn’t bode well. He sucked it up and in that moment promised himself he wouldn’t drift off into fairytale land anymore.

Then, he heard the door open. He sighed and his anxiety spiked back up, but he repressed it, turning around and putting his toughest face on.

And then, in an instant, all his guards were let down. Everything he had been holding in since he was sentenced was rapidly falling out of him. 

He was home. Mickey was his home.

**October 22nd, 2018 - 11:12PM**

Mickey sat on the edge of the bottom bunk, sharpening his shiv just in case anything were to go down when Ian came back. It was eerily silent in not only his own cell, but the entire floor. There weren’t the usual grunts, swears and yells that went on through the night. Mickey thought that was odd but his mind was too focused on Ian to think about anything else that didn’t really concern him.

It was getting cold in his cell, so he grabbed his socks and started putting them. Halfway through pushing them up his feet, he realized they were Ian’s and sighed. Fucker didn’t even get to put his socks on. His feet must be freezing. His heart ached and he threw the socks at the wall and started screaming.

He didn’t scream anything specific - actually, he kind of just yelled in anger as he paced around the room. He needed Ian back. 50 minutes without him was already overwhelming; a night without him was too much to bare. Just when he got him back, he was taken away again. 

That’s when the loud screeching of the cell door opening got Mickey’s attention. His heart fell through his body and landed on the floor. Finally, he was back. 

His face softened as he saw Ian, still cuffed, walking into the cell. He was relieved that he returned in one piece. The guard pushed Ian through the door with a hard shove and locked it behind him. Now, there was only a small streak of light coming through and it landed right on Mickey’s face, his eyes bright blue and open wide.

“Calm down, Mick. I’m fine.” Ian reassured. 

He sat down on the bed next to Mickey, who didn’t take his eyes off of him, and grabbed his hand. Ian looked at Mickey for a few moments and then looked into his lap, bringing Mickey’s hand to his mouth to plant a small kiss.

“You’re good? The fuck they want then?” Mickey questioned.

“Uh, the the head guy-” Ian started.

“The warden?” 

“Yeah, the warden, wanted to see me. He just wanted to go over some of my...history, I guess.” Ian explained, still looking into his lap.

Mickey nodded for a few moments. He could tell something was off with Ian but he didn’t want to pry like he always does.

“Okay, fine. Let’s go back to sleep then...if, if everything’s really okay?” Mickey said, not being able to not pry a little.

Ian didn’t say anything, just nodded and laid back down. They settled into each other and soon Ian was dozing off. Mickey just held him tighter, not being able to sleep. He almost lost him again. He can’t lose him anymore. He just can’t. 

**October 14th, 2018 - 9:19AM**

Mickey could see Ian across the way. His chest ached, in a good but bittersweet way. Ian’s back was turned towards him as he walked to his cell with his guard. They were about 70 feet apart from each other, Mickey walking steadily behind with his guard and all of his things.

With each step, his legs got a little bit weaker but still, he swaggered across the area withh a smile on his face. He was so close to Ian now that close to nothing could bring him down. Except, of course, all the bad ways this situation could go that were looming inside his head. He sighed and pushed them to the back of his mind. He already knew what he was gonna say to him. “Didn’t take you for a prison bitch, Gallagher.” He needed that Milkovich charm in this moment. That faux-confidence Mickey always had. 

But when he was outside Ian’s door, looking in through the window, that line was already out the door and another had taken its place.

He stepped inside, watching Ian’s body move uncomfortably. He couldn’t help but smile wide. It really was his black haired ginger. His nerves shot up through his body but he ignored them. 

Ian turned around and did a double take, his face softening into a curious and relieved stature. Mickey swore his couldn’t grin any harder. His mouth began to hurt. He started explaining how he was here, in the concise and quick sentence he practiced and watched Ian’s every move - although, there weren’t many. He was practically frozen. Mickey’s heart thumped. 

“Oh and uh, I got bottom, so… you’re on top” Mickey said, almost amused, and he swaggered over to the bottom bunk.

Ian finally unfroze and smiled. Mickey’s body could now rest, and he smiled even more.


	4. Tell Me If I'm Worth It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for semi-rape/abuse mention this chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I am a lost boy from Neverland  
> Usually hanging out with Peter Pan  
> And when we're bored we play in the woods  
> Always on the run from Captain Hook  
> "Run, run, lost boy, " they say to me  
> Away from all of reality  
> Neverland is home to lost boys like me  
> And lost boys like me are free"
> 
>  
> 
> _Lost Boy - Ruth B._

**October 14th, 2018 - 5:30PM**

     Ian and Mickey sat side by side in the prison library, up against a huge shelf of old, musty smelling and ripped up books. Clearly, they were donated just like every other “fun” thing in this prison. Maybe politicians had a point - where were all these tax dollars going? Cause it sure as hell wasn’t in the betterment of inmate life.

     Mickey quietly sighed, freed his brain from any political thought, and looked over to Ian, who was buried 6 feet deep in Alice in Wonderland - the first edition. For a few moments, he admired the view he had missed for so long. The slightly orange five o’clock shadow. The small curls forming at the nape of Ian’s neck. Freckles that dotted his nose - it was summer so he had more than usual. His eyes darted back and forth between the sentences, his lips mouthing the words silently. This was it for Mickey. This is where he wanted to be, sitting on the floor of a (prison) library next to the only person that made him comfortable in himself. He smiled softly and Ian looked up from his book.

     “Whatcha looking at?” Ian asked, closing his book but keeping his finger placed at the page he left off at.

     “You. Obviously.” Mickey answered, letting his words linger in the air.

     “I can’t believe we’re...here. I mean,” Ian paused, looking around, “I can believe we’re here, but… together? Fuckin’ hell man. I guess we just can’t escape each other.” He smirked and pushed into Mickey flirtatiously.

     All Mickey could do was fight the urge to kiss him right there. Right in front of the ten other inmates. He spent so long not wanting to kiss Ian at all but, fuck, he couldn’t find one reason he would resist kissing Ian as deeply as he possibly could right now. It was hard to be right next to him and not be affectionate. Mickey wasn’t normally the affectionate type of guy but after all these years he missed Ian like crazy - even if he was there with him now, he still missed him. He didn’t think he would ever stop missing him.

     “Yeah man. Locked up together. Sounds like a fuckin’ fairytale to me, don’t it?” He snickered and so did Ian. 

     It got silent between them and it had been generally silent since earlier, after they fucked for the first time in forever. It wasn’t awkward - it was never awkward between them two, at least not now - but it was eerie. When they were together, they had so much shit going on that it was impossible to have a silent moment unless they were in bed. Now, being locked up, boredom was their best friend and they had a lot of free time to just talk.

     “So...Gay Jesus, huh?” Mickey coaxed. Ian rolled his eyes and pretended to go back to his book, but a goofy smile was plastered on his face.

     “What about him?”

     “He making an appearance anytime soon? Hey, I’d love to meet the guy who saved all us queers.” Mickey joked, softly punching Ian’s arm.

     “Shut up, shut up...” he bellowed, embarrassed, “...how’d you even know about that?” Ian questioned, still looking at Alice in Wonderland.

     "How could I not? Your face was plastered in every newspaper in Mexico, man. How the fuck did that even start?” Mickey asked, genuinely curious.

     Ian paused for a moment and considered his answer. He looked slightly uncomfortable and embarrassed, but he told Mickey anyway.

     “It’s a long story but...fuck, I don’t even know where to start really. I mean, after my mom and.. And.. you, I kinda just went…” he paused, not knowing what to say next.

     “Overboard?” Mickey offered.

     “I was gonna say ‘nuts’ or ‘crazy’ but yeah… overboard. I don’t even remember a lot of it,” he chuckles, but his laugh dies out quickly, “it was all just so…intense. I mean, I know now I was manic but it didn’t feel like that at the time…” he trailed off.

     “You never feel it when you’re manic though, right?”

     "No, but this time it was like...I couldn’t let them all down. That’s what fueled me and manic or not, I don’t think I could have stopped myself, Mick. It was fuckin’ insane.” He sighed, shaking his head.

     “Why couldn’t you just kick ‘em to the curb? It’s not like anyone expected you to be saving every gay kid from their piece of shit parents, you know?”

     Ian looked over at Mickey, clearly getting emotional, and sighed loud and hard. He started shaking his head.

     “No… I couldn’t just kick ‘em to the curb, Mick. They were helpless.” Ian said.

     He shrugged his shoulders and a sadness seemed to take over his spirit.

     “Yeah, but they weren’t your problem is what I mean.” Mickey answered, trying to lighten Ian up.

     “Yes they were Mickey. I couldn’t just abandon them.” Ian argued, getting a little heated.

     “You could have.” Mickey replied. He wasn’t trying to antagonize him but he just didn’t agree with Ian and wanted it to be known.

     “No, I couldn’t!” Ian exclaimed, jumping up to his feet.

     Mickey wasn’t expecting it to go this far - none of their small arguments ever went this far so he was a little confused. He jumped to his feet also and put his hands up in apology.

     “Okay, okay, relax tough-guy.”

     “I couldn’t abandon them okay? I just couldn’t,” he began shaking his head again, “not like I abandoned-” he cut himself off hastily, turned around and began walking towards the exit.

     Mickey grabbed his arm and twirled him back around.

     “Abandon who? You didn’t abandon anyone, okay? It’s not your responsibi-”

     "I did! I did, okay? I abandoned you! I couldn’t help you, Mick. I couldn’t… save you. I just...sat there and watched as.. as..” Ian trailed off and was close to tears now.

     He turned himself around and began walking towards the exit, leaving Mickey behind, stunned. He didn’t chase after him this time. He figured it would be best to give him space, and quite frankly, Mickey needed some of his own after that. It brought back only memories in a wave of small details Mickey could remember. He opened his book and began to read again, letting the words push all the images out of his mind.

**October 14th, 2018 - 5:45PM**

     Ian’s mind was racing with bad thoughts. He was worthless. He was useless and no help to anybody. Weak and scared. He didn’t deserve Mickey. He didn’t deserve anyone. He deserved to be here, though.

     After he was out of sight of Mickey, he began to sulk his way back to his cell. He knew Mickey would give him space for a while - he always did after he was emotional - so he’d have time to think about what he was going to say to him when he arrived.

     He knew he exploded because he wasn’t taking his meds yet. Even though he hated those damn pills, he wished the prison would get them ready quicker. He didn’t want to burden Mickey with his emotional mess like he had in the past.

     While he walked through one of the empty hallways to get to his room he thought of how Mickey was probably regretting coming back for him and it only upset him more. When he almost started crying, he heard shuffling behind him and quickly snapped his head around, followed by his body.

     There were three, beefy looking dudes about 10 feet behind him, walking slowly. One of them smiled, cynically, and the other two just stared at him straight-faced.

     “The fuck do you want with me?” Ian questioned, trying his best to sound threatening.

     They laughed a bit while looking at each other before moving forward.

     “You that Gay Jesus bitch?” The shorter, but muscular, man asked.

     Ian nodded but not before rolling his eyes. He turned around to start walking faster and that was his first mistake. Before he could run, two hands gripped his waist and another gripped his mouth as he tried scrambling away. It all happened so quickly and before he knew it, he was inside a janitorial closet with three of the scariest looking dudes in the joint.

     He began to tremble when he realized something bad was going to happen. He wished so badly that he hadn’t walked away from Mickey. He wished so badly that Mickey could come save him now. And then he remembered how he couldn’t save Mickey. This was his karma


	5. Tell Me I Deserve Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR RAPE THIS CHAPTER! Read with caution, please! 
> 
> Without spoiling anything, I just wanted to say that this chapter is pretty intense. Personally, I feel like Shameless falls short when it comes to rape and consent, so I'm warning you now - from here on out, this fic will have various mentions of rape. However, if you're not triggered by rape, don't let this scare you away! There will be plenty of soft gallavich scenes and the like!
> 
> Also, it may seem confusing now, but it will make more sense in the chapters to come. The flash forward with the guard and warden will come into play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It feels like I only go backwards, baby  
> Every part of me says go ahead.  
> I got my hopes up again, oh no,  
> Not again.  
> Feels like we only go backwards, darling."
> 
>  
> 
> _Feels Like We Only Go Backwards - Tame Impala_

**October 14th, 2018 – 6:30PM**

     Ian clutched the doorknob to the janitorial closet and paused before opening it. His skin crawled with a numbness he was all too familiar with. Opening the door to the closet would make all this real and he wasn’t sure if he was quite ready for that yet. He turned his body around and slowly slumped to the floor, his knees huddled closed to his chest. Leaning his chin on his knees, he closed his eyes.

_Ian had been working at The Fairytale for about three weeks now and he finally felt like he was settling in there. At first, it was odd having a bunch of random strangers ogling your practically naked body, but after a while, he got used to it. He became accustomed to the stares of desire and lust. He liked them. They made him feel put together. Like he had something to offer. And on the plus side, he could get laid as often as he wanted to. He always had a daddy kink, after all._

_Midway through his Saturday night shift his boss came over and told him to go on break. Finally. His legs were becoming wobbly from all the dancing and his many, many drinks that night._

_He jumped off the stage, swaying a bit when he landed. He started walking towards the back room to grab a sweater or something, but his head began to spin so he sat down in one of the lounge chairs instead. He rubbed his temples and hoped he didn’t projectile vomit right there. That would be the end of his career here, he guessed._

_"You okay?” A loud, husky voice sounded beside him._

_He turned his head slightly, to get a look at the guy. He was a relatively small man – small shoulders, small build, small, stick-thin arms. His big, scruffy beard made up for the lack of masculinity. He had to be about 45. Ian smirked._

_“Yeah, I-I’m good,” he mumbled, his stomach churning, “I think.”_

_The guy chuckled and reached over to the table nearby, grabbing a glass of water. He offered it to Ian, who smiled appreciatively._

_“Mm. Thanks.”_

_“Too much to drink?” The man asked._

_“Yeah, I think… I d-don’t know.” Ian slurred._

_He was feeling more tired as the minutes went on. The man was talking but he couldn’t process anything he was saying. How much had he had to drink? While he was trying to count how many he had, the man scooted closer to Ian. Ian looked over, questioningly, but didn’t object and tried to concentrate. His brain felt foggier and foggier and soon he felt like all his limbs were heavy-weights._

_“You look cold. Let’s go get a sweater.” The man said._

_At this point, Ian couldn’t nod, or object, so he just mumbled something incoherently. His body wasn’t responding. Inside, he was freaking out. He wanted to object or shout, or do anything to get someone’s attention, but he couldn’t. All he could do was feel his heart beat faster and faster as the situation unfolded. He could feel hands on his waist, and he knew he was standing up now, but his eye lids were having a hard time staying open. He knew the man was taking him towards the back exit, where there was less security and more people dancing, because he could hear the music get louder. They were closer to the main speakers now. He must have done this before._

_Soon, cold air hit his face and invigorated his numb skin. They were outside now. This is when he had lost all hope._

     Ian tried to push the memory out of his mind as hard as he could, but it was like he was reliving it.

_The man opened the car door and shoved Ian inside the back._

     Trembling started in his fingers, traveling through his arms and up to his shoulders. He rubbed his arms and tried vigorously to get it to go away. Get this out of his mind. Forget. Forget. Forget it all.

_Ian observed the turns he took but got lost after the fifth turn. He was still drunk after all. That’s when he realized something terrible was going to happen to him. He couldn’t get out of this. Not this time. No Mickey around to come and save him._

     The trembling spread through his chest, piercing his heart, and ricocheting into his legs. Tears welled in his eyes and leaked down his pale face. He smacked his face again and again to make it stop, but it wouldn’t.

_And then the car came to a halt, and parked._

     Ian choked back a sob, trying not to be loud.

_He climbed into the backseat._

     He smacked his face harder this time. 

_They dragged him into the closet and locked the door. One hand over his mouth, another two holding his hands back. His legs flailed helplessly._

     He couldn’t stop the tears from falling, soaking his face. He wrapped his arms tightly around him, resting his face in the crease of his elbow.

_The leather of the seat rubbed on his stomach uncomfortably. His whole body was numb._

     He begged Shim to make it stop.

_They took his jumpsuit off and he could feel that familiar feeling of coldness. He stopped flailing now._

     He looked over to where it happened, not far from him, since it was a closet. Cleaning products had fallen over and there was blood on the floor. He touched his sore eye and grazed his fat lip.

_The man slumped on top of Ian. He was done. He panted and kissed Ian’s lips. Ian thanked God that it was over. Before he faded into a roofie-induced coma, he hoped he wouldn’t get fired for not returning to work after his break._

     Ian could feel the trembling subsiding as an emptiness in the pit of his stomach began to grow.

_They were done. Ian sighed quietly in relief. “Tell your faggot boyfriend he don’t make the rules around here.” Spit landed on Ian’s face. At least it was over now._

     Ian stood up now, slowing his breathing down. He looked over, catching his reflection in a metal container. His face injuries were minimal. It wouldn’t be that hard to explain to Mickey. He waited until his face cooled down after crying for so long. Then, he dusted off his jumpsuit quickly with his hands and opened the door that led to the hallway.

**October 14th, 2018 – 7:00PM**

     Mickey sauntered into the cafeteria and looked around for Ian. A bunch of other inmates pushed past him to get into the dinner line. It used to be a lot easier to find Ian when he had red hair but now he had to look through a bunch of brown and black-haired dudes.

     Ian hadn’t been in his cell and Mickey hadn’t seen him since he left the library. When Mickey went over to his cell – around 6:00 – Ian wasn’t there. He didn’t worry too much though; Ian always had a flair for the dramatics.

     He sighed and got into line himself. He figured Ian wouldn’t miss dinner, so he’d just sit by himself until he arrived.

     Yuck. Meatloaf that looked like vomit from someone who ate liver and onions for dinner. The mashed potatoes looked okay though and of course his vanilla pudding looked as delightful as ever. He grabbed a carton of 1% milk and walked over to an empty table.

     He wanted to wait until Ian arrived to eat but fuck, he was starving. He decided he would eat the meatloaf first, so he could enjoy the good food with Ian. While he was choking down his food, a few tough looking dudes swaggered over to his table and sat down. Mickey eyed them, threateningly, but didn’t say anything. In fact, he pretended he didn’t care about their presence and continued eating his food.

     “Your boy-toy looks tasty.” The shorter duded joked, except there was something cynical behind his laughter.

     “He is. Touch him and you’ll fuckin’ regret it, doucheface. I’m about as tasty as this damn meatloaf.” Mickey snarled.

     He stopped eating and put his fork down. He could ignore them being imbecile pricks and talking stupid shit about him but when it came to Ian he could easily pick up another two or three charges.

     Before the guys could say anything else, Ian walked up behind Mickey and sat down beside him. He looked fragile but soon smiled at Mickey and began eating his food. The guys took one last look at Mickey before making kissy-sounds toward Ian and walked away.

     Mickey shook his head and started eating again.

     “Fuckin’ assholes. If they fuck with you, tell me. Could break them bitches in half, easy.”

     Ian nodded, glancing over at Mickey, and that’s when he noticed the fat lip and small bruise near his eye. He dropped his fork and turned Ian’s head towards him. Ian rolled his eyes and shook him off.

     “’m fine, ‘m fine, Mick.” He mumbled, mashed potatoes still in his mouth.

     “The fuck you are. Who did this?! Was it those douchebags?!” Mickey exclaimed.

     Ian shook his head, continuing to eat his food.

     “No, no. It wasn’t Mick. Don’t worry about it. I was emotional and got a little tough with a guard. No big deal. I need my fuckin’ meds, that’s all.” Ian explained.

     Mickey was weary but didn’t want to make Ian feel like he didn’t believe him. So, he slowly nodded and began talking about Alice in Wonderland. He figured it would cheer Ian up. A big smile spread across Ian’s face. Mickey could only hope Ian was okay.


	6. The Perfect Pitter-Patter Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MORE TRIGGERS FOR RAPE MENTIONS. It's not as intense as the last chapter, but as always - tread carefully.
> 
> Hope you like the chapter - I know it's longer but I took a lot of time on this one!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, it seems a long time ago  
> Oh, we didn't know  
> Before we had seen anything  
> We believed in everything  
> All those times you warmed my hand  
> Maybe things weren't easy as they seem"
> 
>  
> 
> _To The Hilt - Banks_

**October 15th, 2018 – Morning**

     Ian untangled his fingers from Mickey’s grip and turned his body towards him, pulling the blanket over his arm and tucking it under his neck. He rested his head on Mickey’s chest and listened to his heartbeat. Thump…thump…thump. Regular, smooth and steady. Relaxed and safe. It beat against Ian’s ear as Mickey’s warmth radiated off his chest, aiding Ian to doze back into a comfortable sleep.

     Mickey was awake, though, and he watched as Ian’s eyes fluttered beneath his eyelids, his dreams continuing from where he left off when he shifted his body. He lifted his hand and rested it on Ian’s head, running his hands through his thick hair and kissing his forehead – gently, he didn’t want to wake him. He closed his eyes. He wasn’t going back to sleep, though. Just thinking.

     Ian hadn’t really said a word to him since their dinner conversation. He didn’t even want to fuck last night, so he just gave Mickey a blowjob and fell fast asleep. It was odd because usually Ian was the one to initiate sex, or it was a mutual thing but this time, it felt one sided for Mickey. Obviously he hadn’t forced Ian – Ian had offered – but he didn’t seem to have the usual spark they both had during sex, or anything sexual. He seemed dull, like he was just getting the job done. In all honesty, it made Mickey want to cuddle more than anything. Mickey loved sex just like the next guy but many times he could settle for spooning. He was a softy at heart.

     He wondered if Ian was becoming depressed. That was the only time he could remember Ian not wanting to have sex, so it made sense. It would be a shit-show if Ian was depressed in here though, so he hoped to God it was something else. Maybe Ian has just changed over the last year or so. The last time he saw Ian was their adventure to the U.S-Mexican border and it lasted all of three days. Before that, it had been over a year since they were actually together. Maybe he didn’t like sex as much anymore. Mickey wouldn’t be upset, he was just curious and hoped it wasn’t because of himself. He hoped that Ian still found him attractive. And even though he didn’t truly think that was the reasoning, it was still nagging his brain. Logically, he knew Ian stilled loved him. He could see it in his eyes…how he speaks…the way he looks at him. But logic rarely mattered when insecurity was involved. Mickey still didn’t feel like he was worth Ian’s love.

     “Your hearts beating faster.” Ian mumbled, startling Mickey out of his thoughts.

     Mickey sighed and did his breathing exercises secretly, calming himself down. He shuffled around to get more comfortable and Ian clung closer to him.

     “Fuck, you scared me. Didn’t know you were awake. I was just thinking, I guess.” Mickey replied.

     “About?”

     “You. Obviously.”

     “You say that a lot.”

     “I think about you a lot.”

     Ian didn’t answer, only squeezed Mickey’s hand which he was now holding.

     “I love you.” Ian said, after a few moments of silence.

     Mickey didn’t say it back but not because he didn’t love Ian. Ian knew this. He didn’t need Mickey to say it. He knew Mickey loved him when he leaned in and kissed his forehead and rubbed his back gently. He knew Mickey loved him when he gazed at him, when he held him tightly during the bad nights, when he pretended he was asleep while Ian was crying. Ian found small things that told him that Mickey loved him every day. Ian said it because he wasn’t sure if Mickey could say the same about him.

     “What’s up with you?” Mickey asked, softly.

     Ian stayed silent for a few moments, listening to the sound of Mickey’s heartbeat. Slow and easy. The perfect pitter patter – it even made Ian’s slow down a few beats. He listened to Mickey’s heartbeat until he could speak again. Slow and easy. Slow and easy.

     “I have something to tell you.”

**October 15th, 2018 – Evening**

     Ian and Mickey sat together, alone, at one of the tables in the cafeteria, chomping away at various portions of their dinner without questioning the content. Even if they had, there was only a small chance they guessed it right. But they ate appreciatively anyway, because they were in prison and this was as good as it was gonna get for them.

     “What do you wanna do when we get out of here?” Ian questioned, trying to answer the question himself in all honesty.

     Mickey chewed the last bit of his food while furrowing his eyebrows and thinking. He stared off to the side and put his fork down.

     “Get this shitty fuckin’ tattoo off my god-damn titty” Mickey replied, dead-faced.

     Ian cackled so loud a few inmates looked over. Mickey rolled his eyes but after a few seconds a smirk snuck its way onto his face. He continued eating.

     “Or… you could just spell my name right.” Ian offered, lifting his eyebrows.

     Mickey flipped him off.

     “It’s already a bad memory. Can’t undo that shit.”

     “C’mon, it ain’t that bad. You could just fix the name and keep the tattoo.” Ian persuaded.

     “Nah, fuck you. You don’t understand since you don’t have any shit-show tattoo stories to tell. Shit was infected like a motherfucker.”

     Mickey laughed and noticed Ian wasn’t laughing. He looked up curiously and realized Ian was looking sheepishly into what was left of his food.

**October 15th, 2018 – Morning**

     “I have something to tell you.” Ian whispered.

     Mickey looked at Ian expectantly, but not questioningly. He didn’t want to make Ian nervous and he wanted him to be open. For all the years Ian nagged Mickey about being open, Ian was about as open as a book that’s been glued shut for a decade. There were a few more moments of silence…and then a few more. Ian just breathed onto Mickey’s chest while Mickey traced Ian’s body with his fingers.

     “So, what is it?” Mickey asked. He didn’t push Ian, but just continued the conversation.

     Ian’s heart picked up and he knew he couldn’t tell Mickey about last night. He just couldn’t. He wasn’t ready to speak those words just yet. It would make it all too real.

     “Remember when I worked at the Fairytale?” Ian started.

     Mickey furrowed his eyebrows, confused at the origin of this question, but nodded.

     “How could I fuckin’ forget that place? Sign is practically embedded in my damn head.” Mickey said.

     Ian chuckled, “I don’t even think I can remember a night you weren’t there,” except he could, “shoulda thrown on a gold thong and made some money.” 

     Mickey grinned and started laughing. “My ass ain’t as good as yours, let’s be honest.”

     “You’ve got great legs, though.” Ian snickered.

     Mickey flipped him off. They laughed together for a few moments until it was silent again.

     “Well…anyway. There was a night you weren’t there.” Ian started again.

     Mickey looked at him questioningly.

     “Was there? Really?” He asked.

     “Yeah, a whole three weeks actually. It was before you found me, remember?” Ian said.

     Mickey started nodding his head as he remembered.

     “Right, right…” he trailed off.

     Mickey knew where this was going. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear what Ian had to say.

     “I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to…bring up anything bad for you.” Ian said, changing the subject.

     “It’s okay…I’m sorry I didn’t – it was just hard for me, you know?” Ian knew.

     He nodded his head slowly and played with the button on Mickey’s jumpsuit.

     “I should’ve fought him off.”

     “He had a fuckin’ gun Ian,” Mickey started but Ian shook his head.

     “I need to say this. Please let me say this?”

     Mickey hesitated and then nodded slowly.

     “I thought about that day for a while. Years, actually. I know…Obviously it was worse for you. Obviously. So that’s why I never…said anything to you, about how bad it was for me. I don’t think I’ll ever get that image out of my mind…but mostly I feel ashamed for letting that happen to you. I was there, I should’ve done something.”

**October 15th, 2018 – Evening**

     “What?” Mickey pressed, confused at Ian’s reaction.

     And then he realized. A smile creeped onto his face.

     “The fuck you hidin’ from me, Gallagher?” Mickey teased, “where is it?”

     Ian shook his head, but a smile couldn’t help but appear on his face. He hesitated, and his cheeks started getting hot. He really didn’t want to tell this story.

     “C’mon, man. I’m not even gonna remind you how you found out about mine.” Mickey coaxed, his smiling becoming a bit more cynical.

     Ian threw his hands up.

     “Fine, fine. Alright.” Ian said.

     He turned his body around and unbuttoned his jumpsuit. Oh, god, Mickey would never let him live this one day. He hesitated, and pulled the top of his jumpsuit down, revealing the fucked-up Monica tattoo. Within seconds he heard Mickey snickering.

     “It’s not funny.” Ian sighed.

     After Mickey didn’t answer he turned back around and found him hurtled over, silently laughing.

     And Ian was the dramatic one.

     “Okay, okay, we get it. Moving on.” Ian concluded, but he was starting to snicker now.

     “Gay Jesus got tits tattooed on his back. Priceless.” Mickey said, still laughing.

     Ian wasn’t actually mad, but he was embarrassed – it didn’t matter within a few minutes because they were both laughing at it anyway.

     “so, yeah…that’s how I accidentally got my mom’s tits tattooed on my back.” Ian finished.

     Mickey looked at him, smiling, and shook his head.

     “It’s okay, Gallagher. I still like you.”

**October 15th, 2018 – Morning**

     “I should’ve done something.”

     Mickey started shaking his head, smiling bittersweetly. Hearing Ian speak about that day made his heart ache. Mickey never talked about it out loud, with anyone – not even Ian – but there was a point in time when he did let it go. Or, at least, he thought he had.

     “It wasn’t your fault man, you can’t blame yourself for my piece of shit father.” Mickey said.

     Outside, he was being strong for Ian, but inside he was trying not to turn into an 18-year-old blubbering version of himself.

     “I know, it’s just…” Ian trailed off.

     Mickey sat up swiftly and grabbed Ian’s face between his hands, looking straight into his green eyes.

     “Listen to me Ian – You can’t. You gotta stop blaming yourself for that. That day happened to you too.” Mickey stressed.

     Ian nodded and let Mickey kiss his forehead for the third time that morning. And then he worked up the courage to speak again.

     “The night before you found me at the Fairytale I was really drunk.” Ian began.

     Mickey laid back down, moving Ian’s head back onto his chest, slowly caressing his cheeks that were becoming red and cold. Ian looked up at Mickey. Fuck, Mickey could see it now. He knew Ian was going to say something bad. His eyes told the story for him. Mickey nodded, encouraging him to continue, and Ian looked back down.

     “I was going on break. It was cold, so I was going to grab a sweater and maybe some pants to sit outside for a while. I ended up practically falling into one of those skanky lounge chairs because I was so drunk.” Ian shook his head.

     Mickey knew exactly where this was going, and he sighed inside of is his head. He didn’t stop running his hands through Ian’s hair.

     “I don’t really know exactly what happened… I mean, I do but… I guess he put something in the water he handed me. I was fucked up so I didn’t even think twice.”

     Mickey held back tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes. He held Ian tighter.

     “I knew he had done it before because he moved so quickly to the exit. I couldn’t move so he dragged me through a crowd of dancing people. And when he put me in his car, I knew I was fucked. I remember wishing for you so bad, Mick…” Ian trailed off.

     Mickey could feel a wet spot on his chest and that’s when he exploded with tears. Quickly, he wiped them away. He had to be strong for Ian. He could feel the tremors below Ian’s skin so he hugged him closer and held him while he cried.

     “It’s okay, Ian. Everything’s gonna be okay.” Mickey soothed, “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked but regretted it the second it came out of his mouth.

     He knew why. If Ian hadn’t been in his father’s house that day, he wouldn’t have told him… probably ever. For so long he wished Ian hadn’t been there that day. That his father would’ve just beat his ass and let him leave. Ian being forced to watch him while it happened was what made him feel the most disgusting. That’s why it was so difficult to see his face after. All he could see was Ian whimpering…and pitying him.

     “Sorry, that was a stupid question.” He continued.

     Ian shook his head and looked up.

     “I didn’t remember it at first. I woke up on the ground at the back of the Fairytale. I felt…sore, but I figured I had just done something with someone while I was drunk or high. While I’m manic, that happens to me a lot – I forget things or can block them out easier.” Ian paused for a moment but then continued, “I remembered it when I was depressed. I think I knew all along what had happened to me but was in denial and it just got really bad, all at once…” Ian finished.

     Mickey nodded. He understood Ian perfectly – probably better than anyone else on planet Earth.

     “I get it. That’s kind of how it was for me, except I wasn’t manic,” he hesitated, “I spent a long ass time convincing myself I just fucked another girl like I did before me and you. That I wanted it,” he paused and closed his eyes, and continued, “but I didn’t…I was raped.” He concluded.

     The word hung in the air like a darkness that you can’t see through – the kind of darkness that makes you wonder if your eyes are open or closed at night. Mickey hadn’t ever said those words out loud before and he didn’t think he ever would until three seconds before he did. At first, it felt like a boulder hit him straight in the chest. But soon, the boulder lifted and with it, it took all the debris that had been burying Mickey’s body ever since that day.

     “I love you, Mick. I know I already said it once today but fuck, I wanna say it again. I love you.” Ian said.

     “Three times.” Mickey replied.

     Ian smiled and held up three fingers, mouthing the words “three times.”

     “I love you too, Gallagher.”


End file.
